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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/whereflowshoodriOOcool< 



W\)m Jflotus! Iloob i^iber 











" its circling strand 
Ensnaring fast this ho?neless bit of land ^ 
This unreached island. ' ' 



MOONLIGHT IN HOOD RIVER GORGE 



W\)tvt Jf loltjs; ^oob aaiber 



BY 



MARION COOK 




Illustrated zvith Photographs and Drazvings 
by The Author 



MCMVII 

HICKS-CHATTEN ENGRAVING COMPANY 

PORTLAND, OREGON 






LIBRARY 9fC0NGHESS| 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 25 1907 

JOUSSA XXc. L 
8 COPY Bv 



Coi 



1907, RY Marion Cook 



1 

R 



Thanks are due the "Overland Monthly' 

for the privilege of republishing 

*' October" and 

"Western Tours" for "Transcription" 



Acknowledgements are also due Mr. L. J. Hicks 

for the use of the PHOTOGRAPH 
ON PAGE 65 



[ iii ] 




T 



o the many friends who have 
helped to make this valley 
dear to me, this little book. 



[ V ] 



CONTENTS 

Where Flows Hood River 3 

The Stony Belt 7 

The Flume 11 

Love's Afterglow 15 

Columbia's Call 19 

The Wooing 23 

Sunset at Cloud Cap Inn 27 

At Wau Guin Guin 31 

Moonlight in Hood River Gorge • • • • 35 

The Serpentine Road 39 

October 43 

Oaks 47 

Orchards in April 51 

Above Tucker's Mill 55 

Strawberry Days 59 

The Pines 63 

Milking Time 67 

Night Song 71 

The Devil's Punch Bowl 75 

Saturday in Town 79 

In the Packing House 83 

Long Country Roads 87 

Transcription , 91 

Gold 91 



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Where fiozvs Hood ?-iz'e?-, its green banks between ' ' 



-WHERE FLOWS HOOD RIVER 



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W\}tvt Jf lotDJi J^oob aaiber 

V/Y/ here flows Hood river, its green banks between, 

Slipping along in gladsome melody. 

Or petulantly scolding on its way; 
Now from a rock-hewn bluff but narrow seen. 
Now cradling trout where some wide bed hath been, 

Or turning a vast wheel of industry. 

The while it boasts its aristocracy 
As, glacier-born, it sings of home, I ween. 

Holding it dear, I almost might deplore 

The passing of the wigwam from its shore; 
Might long to see the camp-fire's fitful blaze, 

And breathe the freedom of old Indian days; 

For this swift-running stream, with subtle art. 
Hath wound its way, forsooth, into my heart. 



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*^a?td now there can be seen 
This rock-strewn waf 

THE STONY BELT 



[5] 






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■ he mountains raged with tempers violent, 

(So runs the legend), and with fierce intent, 
Shot mighty stones each to annihilate — 
So Hood and Adams fought. 

Their skill, alas, was a la feminine! 
Their aim fell short, and now there can be seen 
This rock-strewn way to mark the valley's fate- 
When Hood and Adams fought! 



[7] 



l^fjerejf lotos; 
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Or rushing, furious, to some lower bed'' 



■ — THE FLUME 



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VLi)t jFlume 

I^L etting the valley's face, its lacy thread 

Confined in slender channels; now and then 
Astride the land on stilts; and then again 

In wanton, pure abandonment outspread. 

Or rushing, furious, to some lower bed 

And swirling there in whirlpools dizzying; 
Thus loyally it serves the needs of men, 

A-zigzag as their whim or fancy led. 

How clear and pure it runs! Its lofty birth 

The endless snows of Hood. As cool, I think. 

It parallels the sloping berry fields, 

And thus refreshes all the thirsty earth; 

While patient cattle, grateful, pause to drink. 

And orchards speak their praise in mighty yields. 



[I'] 



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zo/ii/e to the right . . lies Hood'''' 



LOVE S AFTERGLOW 



['3] 



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Kobe's ^ftergloto 

I hese wooded hills a-touch, a-flame with light, 
All brick-red in the sun's departing glow, 
Upholstered in brown velvet, row on row. 
And buttoned in with forests green! The sight 
Intoxicates the eye; while to the right, 
Suffused in pink, lies Hood in afterglow; 
And Adams to the north, with, far below, 
The river trailing off into the night. 

Oh heart of mine! so, beautifying life. 

Doth shine the splendor of the days that were! 
Love's glorv covers all; while slips away 

Its morn of tumult and its noon of strife; 
And leaves me dreaming here, a worshipper. 

All bathed in beauty and soft ecstacy! 



['5] 






^^ 




Vistas leading coaxi?igh away.''^ 



COLUMBIA S CALL 



['7] 






^ft 



Columbia's; CaU 



I uringly, teasingly^ lovingly withal^ 

And yet all-compellingly doth my river call; 
And my heart an answer cries^ 
While the quick tears blur my eyes^ 
For I dearly love it, love it so! 

Days there are of happy moods, 
Sun-flecked waves and emerald woods, 

And the changeless blue ot summer sky; 
Then a sombre morrow speaks. 
Flying cloud-mists veil the peaks. 

And we thoughtful grow — my heart and 1, 

Yet each call is dear to me 
And I answer eagerly. 

Thankful that I hear it and obey; 
Toward the west or toward the east, 
Eyes and mind find feast on feast — 

Vistas leading coaxingly away. 

Luringly, teasingly, lovingly withal, 
And yet all-compellingly doth my river call; 
And my heart an answer cries. 
While the quick tears blur ?ny eyes. 
For I dearly love it^ love it so! 



['9] 



W\)tvt Jf lotus 



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^^The suji a zvooer is. 



-THE WOOING 



[.I] 






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Lometimes I wonder, sitting in the sun, 

(All dripping with the glory ot its rays), 
If apples blush so when, in autumn days. 

The full, rich crimson of their life's true run 

Stains each plump cheek as coyly, one by one, 
They yield them to the fascinating plays 
Of sun and wind and all the charming ways 

These two conspire until their work is done. 

The sun a wooer is; and I can feel 

How ardently he pleads; what firm intent 

He manifests, and what unflagging zeal; 

It surely could but cause embarrassment. 

Set them a-tingling to their being's core 

And make them — all immodest — long for more! 



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CLOUD CAP INN, MT. HOOD 



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Sunset at Cloub Cap inn 

think I never saw so fair a sight 

As that one sunset; let me make it plain: 
Imagine a vast, glowing, billowy main 

Of clouds in-pouring from the west, and quite 

As level as the sea; its surging light 

Rolled high on mighty breakers — holding rein 
At Adams' massive form, and making vain 

Assaults on Helens, reared to meet the night. 

Then presently it crept about our feet. 

And almost smothered Hood in close embrace; 

Yet ever sky and water seemed to meet. 

And only for the mountains left a place; 

And ever, as the sun sank lingeringly, 

We fancied we were sailing on the sea! 



[27] 



Wi}tvt jf lotos; 



^^ 




The sunlight tips the waters.'"' 



AT WAU GUIN GUIN 



[^9] 






# 



at OTau <Jiuin (§uin 

{ Lullahy Falls) 

l\ 11 swathed in feathery veils of rising spray, 

These falls that softly croon one's self to sleep 
(Yet ever their eternal vigils keep), 
Drop gently into life's hard work-a-day 
And lead, like willing troops, my thoughts away; 
They bid me pause, with inward eye to peep 
At things invisible; the forceful, deep. 
Resistless power that must have its way. 

The sunlight tips the waters; yet below. 

Far down the jagged steep, 'tis dark enough! 

And one but marvels at their laughing so. 

Instead of moaning that the way is rough; 

Content they are to move as He hath planned. 

Since source and resource are all in His hand! 



[3'] 



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** a shimmer i?ig fiozVy 
Offset with dusky green. ' ' 

MOONLIGHT IN HOOD RIVER GORGE 



[33] 






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iHoonligfjt in ||oab Eiber (gorge 



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ome close beside me; let me touch you, so — 

How fair the night is! here, give me your hand; 
I want to feel you near as thus we stand 
And drink deep of this hour. How pale below 
Our feet, the river winds! a shimmering flow, 
Offset with dusky green; its circling strand 
Ensnaring fast this homeless bit of land. 
This unreached island that doth beckon so! 

Do you recall that other night like this 

When first we stood here? Think what others miss- 

The moon a-swim in its own loveliness; 
And over all this haze of silver rain; 

The rushing stream; Hood, spectre-like — in vain 

Can daylight coax me to forget again! 



[35] 



Wi^tvt jf lotos; 



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-THE SERPENTINE ROAD 



[37] 






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Cfje terpentine 3^oab 



ar up this road that overhangs the town, 

I linger while the sun slips down to rest; 
The mountains silhouetted in the west, 
The river gleaming golden up and down 
Its glorious length; the eastern hills red-brown 

And purple in this light — for evening dressed 
In gorgeous hues — , all quell a dull unrest, 
And lay upon the cross of day, a crown. 

Though tortuous its climb, this rough ascent 

Is lined its winding length with flowers sweet; 

And, snuggled deep in oaks, the town, content. 
In cosy comfort nestles at one's feet; 

So each real striving finds its nourishment. 

And each acquired height its view complete. 



[39] 






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But sheen a?id gIo?-\ linger with us yef 



OCTOBER 



[41] 



l^fjerejf lotos; 



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0ttohtv 

I J ear heart, 'tis true the summer's sun hath set, 

And earth no more can feel her warm pulse-beat; 
But sheen and glory linger with us yet, 

Tho' touched with prints of autumn's foot-steps fleet. 

In place of quiet green and softening shade, 

We have the flaming grandeur of the woods; 

Those kindling signal-flres by nature made 

To herald the approach of wintry moods. 

And it is true our love was warm and red 

And glowing as the rose — must it, too, die? 

And, fluttering, fall as trembling leaves are shed. 
Unloosed by every breath that passeth by ? 

Ah no, it cannot be ! . . . . beneath the snow 

The tender green still lives, tho' hid from view; 

Its life is safe, and when spring breezes blow. 
The perfect flower will open, love, for you ! 



[43] 



Wi)tvt jf lotos; 



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**A waving ca?iopy of tangled greefi.'''' 



OAKS 



[45] 



W\)tvt jf lotos; 



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©afes 

TV waving canopy of tangled green 

Above my head : I gather the bright leaves 
And pin them, stem-wise, into festive wreaths, 

Admiring furtively their glossy sheen. 

So still I sit, my presence is not seen 

By this small, scampering squirrel who believes 
Himself alone, and so adroitly weaves 

His way these rocks and bushes dense between. 

Three times he comes and goes, and I reflect 

How many lives these mothering oaks protect. 

What various creatures loiter in their shade ; 

While even their gaunt, leafless forms have played 

Their part in winter, and have done their full 
Toward making this the Valley Beautiful ! 



[47] 



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*'I see o'er all the valley at msj feet 
The fluffy pink-a?id-zvhite of blossoms sweet.'' 

ORCHARDS IN APRIL 



[49] 



I 



(0rci)arbg in ^pril 

idle through the rows of well-kept trees, 
And revel in the beauty of this fling 
Of rare perfume and rampant coloring, 

And find it passing sweet. Such sights as these, 

Such odors, would the most fastidious please; 

'Twould seem as though this party gown of spring 
Had caught the flare of sunset's pink, to bring 

It to the earth, our wonder to appease. 

Not only in this grove is beauty found; 

Wherever turns the eye — behind, around, 
I see o'er all the valley at my feet 

The fluffy pink-and-white of blossoms sweet; 
And while some reckon but the fruit, I hold 

These days of fragrant promise outweigh gold ! 



[5'] 



Wi)tvt JflotoS 
?&oob IXiticr 



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^'The hills, the rocks, the river ; and the might 
Of zvind-swept branches ' ' 



ABOVE TUCKER S MILL 



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I^ijerejf lotos 



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gitiotie Cucfecr's iWiU 

close my eyes and find myself again 

In all the bliss of that high noon's delight; 
The hills, the rocks, the river; and the might 

Of wind-swept branches like a tossing mane, 

A-patterning the ground; and now, as then 

I seem to hear the burden, day and night, 
Of that one song whose wail is infinite — 

The lonely river moaning out its pain. 

Complainingly it murmurs; would implore 
Some pity for its narrow, rocky bed; 

And yet I cannot give it; thus to miss 

This voice that understands; to hear no more 

This undersong of life, so pensive said — 

No, no! I love to come here just for this! 



i55:\ 






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* * And every morn the earth is horn anezv ' ' 



STRAWBERRY DAYS 



[57] 






^^ 



I ike brilliant flecks of color o'er the land, 

The Indian pickers come, a motley crew; 
One hears their jargon on the streets and through 
The busy country-side. On every hand 
The berry fields are swarming with a band 

Of eager workers; skies are warm and blue. 
And every morn the earth is born anew, 
With gay surprises for its people planned. 

But best of all, the campers love the night, 

Moonlit or dotted, gem-like, with the stars; 

l^he steady hum of insects and the flight 

Of happy visions seen through Sleep's gold bars ; 

The while the hungry world dreams longingly 
Of short-cake and the bliss that is to be! 



[59] 



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As mighty chu7-ch-spires 7-c aching heavenward'''' 



-THE PINES 



[61] 






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/\ s mighty church-spires reaching heavenward, 

So loom the pines; dear heart, how sad they moan! 
The night grows dark and I am here alone — 
Alone save for these phantom shapes, half-feared. 
That hide the stars and seem, in fancy reared. 

Like some dim temple reaching to God's throne. 
Where need of silent prayer doth meet my own. 
And peace that no earth-building can afford! 

The scent of swaying needles fills the air; 

I want you, love; yet I can worship here 
Apart, if need be, until you shall come; 

My wish will draw you, that you too may share 

The secrets that these whispering pines hold dear. 
The mystery of this spot — in daylight dumb! 



[63] 



I^fjere Jf lotos; 



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Come loitei'ing slow, a?id Ihiger by the gnte. 



MILKING TIME 



[6 s] 






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iililfeing tKime 

I I p from the creek the cattle, one by one, 

Come loitering slow and linger by the gate 
And meekly their appointed places wait 
In well-filled stalls. The late, low-shining sun 
By polished pails flashed back, the steady run 
Of milk from heavy udders designate 
The hour's hungry need; and gentle Kate 
And Bess and Daisy count their task well done. 

Now thoughtfully they chew their cud and dream 
Of wandering in a cornfield, fancy free; 
While puss waits for her share with kittens three 

And jealously doth eye the golden stream 

That mother sets aside for churning-day — 
(Oh happy scene, in memory laid away!) 



[67] 



latere Jf lofcDSi 



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'•^ All nature sinks into a sicect repose"*' 



NIGHT SONG 



[69] 



latere jFlottJg 



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he summer moon rides up beyond the hill 

All dazzling gold against the far blue sky, 
And just beside it, watchful, silent, still. 
One baby star to keep it company. 

Low, cradling breezes rock the trees to rest, 
Across the field a cricket's chirp is heard; 

And from the woods made bold by glowing west. 
The last faint twitter of yon sleepy bird. 

All nature sinks into a sweet repose. 

Made drowsy by the deepening shades of night; 
The flowers droop their weary heads and close — 

To shine the fairer in to-morrow's light. 



Sleep, sleep, O earth, and hush awhile thy cares. 

And rest betimes thy pulsing, throbbing heart! 

In infinite Love there are no dull despairs. 
And God doth willingly His joy impart! 

The hour grows late; the night descendeth low. 

Now pause with me and breathe a space more free; 

This sleeping world, the brooding stars and all 
This quiet peace belong to thee and me ! 



[71] 



^fjere Jf lotos! 



^ 




• These cui-'ioin zvalh all hone-^cornbed and cleft. 
And in their height immense''' 



-THE DEVIL S PUNCH BOWL 



[73] 



W\}tu Jf lotos 



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I j own, down, I gaze into this basin deep 

From points of vantage on its curving brim, 
(A sight that almost makes my senses swim). 
And note the blue-green waters and the leap 
Of rushing falls that feed it. I could weep 

At the misnomer; pray, what taste or whim 
Impelled this naming? Surely not for him. 
This imp beguiling, God hath planned this steep ! 

Too wonderful it is; an angel hand 

For man's delight this mighty bowl hath planned; 
These curious walls all honeycombed and cleft. 

And in their height immense; such chiseling deft 
God's handiwork reveals — too good indeed 

To meet a mythic evil's fancied need ! 



[75] 






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'■^headed down 
The graded roadway'''' 

SATURDAY IN TOWN 



[77] 



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►aturbap in tKoton 



IT ustle, bustle through the town, 

A Hne of wagons headed down 
The graded roadway, past the school, 

Till hitching-posts, ere long, are full ; 
Clerks kept busy handling goods, 

(Yards of cloth or needed foods). 
And throughout the day till late 

Groups of farmers congregate 
At Bragg's corner, talking o'er 

Politics or crops or war, 
Or a bit of gossip rare 

As a tempting bill of fare; 
Youths and gay, be-ribboned maids 

With flying curls or sober braids. 
Haunt the shops that sell ice-cream; 

Babes on good behaviour seem — 
Everything in bright array 

On this, the farmer's holiday! 



[79] 



^fjerejf lotos; 



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For by its fruits this z' alley shall he known 



-IN THE PACKING HOUSE 



[8,] 



Wi)tvt Jflotusi 



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3n tfje ^acfeing ilou^e 

I he busy fingers fly, while jest and song 

Float gayly on the air; the fruit piled high 
In groaning trays quite captivates the eye, 
And makes one ail-immoderately long 
To taste and feast. With care the active throng 
Of willing workers their skill justify 
In faultless rows of "toppers", and deny 
A "cull" could in their boxes ere belong. 

And still the pickers laden come, and still 

I watch the work go on. How many lands 

Are gladdened by the fruit from these deft hands, 

How many countless sing its praise, and will! 

These tables bear the proofs of hopes well sown. 
For by its fruits this valley shall be known. 



[83] 



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•And if I humbh follow y lo! they still 
Stride on ahead'''' 



LONG COUNTRY ROADS 



[«5] 






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Hong Countrp Eoabsi 



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ong country roads that wander where they will 
Across this sunny valley, beckoning me 
Around each corner tantalizingly ; 

And if I humbly follow, lo ! they still 

Stride on ahead with eager pace until 

The race seems futile. Yet I fain would see 
What lieth just beyond, though certainly 

Could never of their beauty drink my fill ! 

And oftentimes I find I have a mind 

To share their privilege ; fancy what they know 
Unknown to others ! Wind or winter's snow 

Cannot efface the memory, I find. 

Of summer days; and as the seasons roll. 
These roads fold up their secrets like a scroll. 



[87] 



Wi)tvt Jf lotos 



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Day doth not dic 



TRANSCRIPTION 



[S9] 



tKranscription 

% A /here sinks the sun in fiery seas of splendor, 
Day doth not die ; 
'Tis but her sleep-song written warm and tender, 
On clefs of sky — 
God's Lullaby. 



(§olb 



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yellow buttercup! How I love your gold I 



Holding in your chalice, gleamings manifold! 
Like a burst of sun-bloom from the past thou art, 
Shedding Hope's reviving rays on a shadowed heart. 
Whispering sweet promises of wealth of love untold! 

O yellow buttercup! How I love your gold! 



[9.] 



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V.WERT 
BOOKBINDING 

C'ar.tvill*. Pa 
Sept— Or ^"' 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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018 602 736 A ( 



